


the seventh year

by radicalmat



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, during starscourge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 10:26:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radicalmat/pseuds/radicalmat
Summary: As hunters during Starscourge, Ignis and Prompto have grown apart. However, annually, there is one night that they get together.





	the seventh year

**Author's Note:**

> I like to listen to music and ambient noises as I write. These go together well for the setting of this fic [[x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xd2NYsuU-zs/)] [[x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GVhH3KzOyFo/)]

The buzzing phone alarm near his pillow startles Prompto awake, and he instinctively clicks it off.

Blinking in the dim light, he pouts as he stretches and checks the time. He squints in the phone light, reading the time 12:01am. With a huff, he sits up and swings his legs over the small bed. The door is halfway open with the kitchen light streaming in: a comfort for Prompto alone.

He looks up at the dust swirling in the sliver of light, eyes sliding out of focus as he thinks. Rain patters on the roof of the caravan, masking the sounds of the daemons lurking outside—never too far away in this apocalyptic hell. Prompto wouldn’t notice them anyway, accustomed to the noise of monsters. He’s learned to sleep through the terrors nearby with a hand on the gun under his pillow.

He drops his gaze to his boots on the carpet, running his fingertips over the scratchy material of the sheets. So far tonight, he's avoided the nightmares; sleeping better than he has in months. The cramped bedroom of the old caravan barely has enough space for two twin beds, so Ignis is practically right next to him. His eyes trace Ignis’s sleeping form, wrapped in a tattered knit blanket. Prompto hesitates to wake him; this is the only time he gets to see Ignis so peaceful nowadays. Of course, Ignis is always calm and collected, but Prompto can almost feel the tension in his body, can sense the anxiety under the cool exterior.

With a sigh, Prompto stands and steps close to Ignis, laying a featherlight hand on his shoulder.

“Iggy,” he says softly. He gives Ignis a gentle shake when he doesn’t respond, and Ignis jolts awake with a gasp.

He rolls to his back, unseeing eyes wide. “Prompto!” he hisses, grabbing the hand on his shoulder and gripping tight. “Are you alright?”

Emotion crosses Prompto’s face: There was the other reason he hesitates to wake him; Ignis has become so jumpy in recent years. Hardened, yes, but also very much on edge. “Yeah, Iggy,” Prompto breathes, turning his hand around in Ignis’s and giving his fingers a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just me… shh-hhh-hh…”

“What’s wrong? What time is it?” Ignis asks, voice thick with sleep. He sits up, shaking the blanket off his shoulders and blinking his grayish eyes.

Prompto sits on the bed, facing Ignis and reaching out to rub his clothed chest. “Nothing’s wrong. Lay back down.” Whether it be exhaustion or the fact that he’s still half-asleep, Ignis goes with little coaxing. “There,” Prompto hums, stroking Ignis’s hair. “It’s a lil’ after midnight.”

Eyes closed as his breathing returns to normal, Ignis hums in understanding.

“Happy birthday,” Prompto says gently, grinning.

Ignis finds Prompto’s hand again and holds tight. “Thank you,” he replies quietly—that might even be a hint of a smile.

Annually, Prompto makes a point to meet up with Ignis the night before his birthday. They spend most of their time apart these past few years, yet Prompto still insists on seeing Ignis around his birthday. And every year, Prompto wakes him up at midnight. It seems foolish with the little amount of sleep they get already, but he has a reason: A lifetime ago, at midnight on February 7th, Ignis would be woken with a text from Noctis every year since the prince got a phone. On these nights together, he used to jokingly remind Ignis that if Noct had his phone, he would’ve definitely texted him by now. It’s since gotten too painful, and Prompto has stopped mentioning Noctis. However, they cling to each and every memory they have left of him.

Prompto scoots closer, bends down and presses a kiss to Ignis’s forehead, right above the scar over his left eye. “I got you something. We can open it in the morning,” he mutters against Ignis’s hairline, pressing their foreheads together briefly.

In response, Ignis makes whatever room he can on the tiny bed. “Come here,” he whispers, holding the blanket up invitingly.

Prompto settles in next to Ignis on the springy mattress, the knit blanket catching on his fingers as he adjusts it around him. He lays his arm over Ignis’s waist, his warmth melting away the ever-present anxiety in his chest. It isn’t the most comfortable trying to sleep fully clothed but it is comforting to know that they’ll always be ready to defend themselves.

“Thank you, darling,” Ignis whispers into Prompto’s hair, grateful that the years have not hardened Prompto’s heart of gold.

It’s bittersweet; holding each other is comforting, but there will always be something missing between them. Prompto knows they both ache for Noctis, ever since the day they cried for him together. They both know how the other feels about him, and so they take comfort in each other.

“Of course,” Prompto says, trying to sound as lighthearted as always.

He snuggles closer to Ignis and listens to the rain outside. He catches himself wishing the rain would wash away the daemons, would cleanse the shroud of endless night from the sky and bring the sun. But instead, rain just makes the night more dangerous.

“We’ll see him again,” Prompto whispers, no need for clarification. The statement isn’t reassuring; it breaks his heart with every word—the hope is drowned out by the reminder that he’s  _gone_. Seeing him again means losing him again. And yet he still says it.

Ignis doesn’t answer for a long time, settling for just rubbing Prompto’s back. “And with him, the dawn,” he finally says.

“Yeah,” Prompto says. He leans up and kisses Ignis’s chin. “Go back to sleep.”

 

This isn’t a tradition, just something that was shared between them and Noctis. He was always awake to text them at midnight on their birthdays, thinking about them, and doing something special for them before anyone else could. Something between friends—something between family. And after all they’ve been through, there’s still something so simple to bring them together. Prompto will do anything to keep that. With a heavy heart, Prompto knows that he’ll do this for Ignis every year.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this short, sad fic I wrote on Ignis's birthday.


End file.
